


Rear View Mirror

by Syrenslure



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrenslure/pseuds/Syrenslure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Sam Carter almost fell in love with Elizabeth Weir, and one time she wished that she hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rear View Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/Dedications: This is the porn that would not end. It was meant to be a short snippet, but one wasn't enough; these ladies had HISTORY. Written specifically for Geonn who requested Sam/Elizabeth or Sam/Teyla on the 14th of March, and then waited oh so patiently while I wrestled with my muse and tormented him with snippets and promises. Though, I am glad that he has gotten me into writing femmeslash again, and he certainly deserves this for rescuing me with pr0n in my time of need *snicker*. Lyrics between sections from Meatloaf's ' Objects In The Rear View Mirror (May Appear Closer Than They Are).'

  
_It was long ago and it was far away; oh God, it seems so very far._

I. They meet in Washington, years before Elizabeth has ever heard of the Stargate program, and while it is still largely theoretical for Sam. She is a First Lieutenant, stationed at the Pentagon while she finishes her dissertation, and at the cocktail party largely because of the urging and influence of her father, who is always trying to 'advance her career'. Elizabeth is a minor diplomat assigned to the Italian ambassador, wearing an elegant dress that probably cost more than six month's O-2 pay. She's working the room like she was born to it, unlike Sam, who stands stiffly near the open bar, tugging awkwardly at the bust-line of her new dress, and wishing she'd given into the urge to wear her mess dress instead.

Elizabeth's hair is a deep, dark red, like overripe plums, and her dress is a skintight number in creamy ivory, with a spray of crystals from the left side of her waist, down toward her hip and up toward her breasts. Her lips look like they have been painted with the red wine in her glass, and when she laughs, Sam has to force herself to look away, realizing that she has been staring. She feels strangely flushed, and tries to convince herself that it is just mild envy, of a woman moving effortlessly through a man's world, and holding her own with ease - no bravado or awkwardness.

She is beautiful and captivating, and Sam has almost convinced herself that was all it is, when suddenly she is there, accepting a drink from the bartender, and talking to Sam. "Not quite your cup of tea, is it?"

Her smile is open and friendly, and her tone isn't judgmental, so Sam feels herself relaxing and answering honestly, "No, not really. I'd rather be in my lab."

"Army? Air Force?"

"Air Force. Lieutenant Samantha Carter. Sam." She looks puzzled and cocks her head a bit. "How'd you know?"

"Well, instead of looking like you were holding up the wall," Elizabeth slides into place next to her demonstrating as she sips her wine, "You've spent most of the evening at Parade Rest, watching the room like you were working security, and not dancing. That's a shame really, because I'd love to watch you move in that dress."

"Oh!" Sam blinks, and blushes, silently cursing her fair complexion.

Elizabeth takes the lack of denial as a positive sign, and introduces herself. "Dr. Elizabeth Weir. You can call me Liz, and, if you give me ten minutes to say goodnight to my boss, and excuse myself, you can meet me in the cloakroom and escort me home. A girl can never be too safe; can she?"

"Yes," Sam says, already a little breathless, and they haven't even touched each other yet.

Her 'home' turns out to be a rented suite at The Watergate, and Sam barely notices the comfortable looking, warm orange chairs in the sitting room, or the brief glimpse that hints at an office area and mini-bar, as she and Elizabeth stumble toward the large bed.

She knows this drill, she learned it at the academy right along with her left-faces and parade rests. It's hard and fast, taking and giving no quarter, all lips and teeth and grabbing hands and fumbled zippers. Moans are muted, lips and tongues are bitten to hold back pleading words; it's a race to the finish line.

Elizabeth isn't playing by the rules, though. She pins Sam beneath her and grins. Sam's dress is long gone, but Elizabeth's expensive dress is bunched around her waist like a belt. The moonlight playing peek-a-boo through the drapes washes over her creamy skin and catches on the fancy crystals, and she holds Sam's hands over her head, straddling her hips like a conquering goddess. The smooth silk of her panties and stockings are like a caress against Sam's hips and mound, as she tries to twist away, to regain her control.

Elizabeth just leans down, resting her weight against Sam and pushing her deeper into the bed. "I want to hear you," she whispers.

Sam tries to glare at her, as she bites her lip, and bucks her hips, but Elizabeth just smiles and pushes back, rocking their groins against each other, and Sam can feel her wetness spreading, soaking the expensive silk of her new panties, and she groans in spite of herself.

"Good girl," Elizabeth begins nipping at Sam's collar bone and kissing her way to her breasts. She nuzzles and then sucks her nipples to hardness, alternating back and forth with no pattern. "That's it," she says, with each moan and hitch of breath she coaxes from Sam.

She shifts slightly to the side to straddle Sam's thigh, as she works her hand under the waistband of Sam's panties, and teases her open with spread fingers. She holds open the blonde's outer lips, exposing her clit to the slip-slide of the damp silk from the slight motion of her hand and Sam's hips, as she rocks against her, until Sam's hips are thrusting up, and she is making broken sounds like, "Please, please," and Elizabeth thrusts two fingers inside of her, hard and fast, just like she needs it, the base of her hand pressing just under Sam's clit on the upstroke.

It is like pulling G's, suspended in a sense of timelessness and weightlessness, where the whole world is pressing down against you and waiting for you to snap.

And then she does.

Elizabeth spends the whole night teaching her new rules, and Sam shows what a good student she is until they both give into the dreamless sleep of exhaustion. Elizabeth is gone when Sam wakes up, but there is a note pinned to the front of her dress, now neatly hung on the back of the door.

> I'm in town for the week. Let's meet for lunch Wednesday, at the Sheraton - District Grill. Call me.
> 
> Liz
> 
> (202) 555-1917

_We were ready for adventures and we wanted them all_

_And there was so much left to dream and so much time to make it real_

II. Sam doesn't call, and they don't meet for lunch, but that doesn't mean that she doesn't feel a little of shiver of anticipation when she recognizes her across the lobby of The Washington Ballet during intermission. This time, Liz is a blonde, in an elegant blue and gold couture gown, and even more stunning than Sam has remembered. She sips a white wine and chats with an older couple, in what sounds, to Sam, as she circles closer, like one of the Eastern European languages. She is about to berate herself for all but stalking a former one-night stand that she consequently stood up, when Liz looks up and catches her eye, giving her a dazzling smile.

Liz gestures her over, politely excusing herself from her conversation with her companions. "Lieutenant Carter, a pleasure to see you again." She looks her up and down, with what could pass for a polite inventory of passing time, but there is a heat in her look, that makes Sam feel like squirming, even as she stiffens her posture and replies.

"Actually, it's Captain, now."

"Congratulations." Her smile is bright and she seems genuinely pleased for a moment, and then her face transforms once more into the polite mask that Sam had remembers seeing at the embassy, as she sees something over Sam's shoulder.

She turns, and sees Paul approaching with two flutes of champagne, and a precariously balanced plate of chocolate covered strawberries and shortbread cookies from the table near the bar.

"Paul," she pastes a warm smile on her face, "This is Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Elizabeth, Captain Paul Davis. We work near each other at the Pentagon - for another week or so, at least."

"Oh?"

"I've been reassigned. Deep-Space Telemetry out of Cheyenne Mountain."

"That sounds fascinating," She turns to Paul with a bright smile, "And a pleasure to meet you, Captain." She makes a motion as if to shake his hand, before realizing his burden.

Her smile is apologetic, but he just smiles and offers her the plate and one of the flutes. She nods her head in thanks, and he gives Sam the other glass. He motions toward the bar, "I'll just go and… Dr. Weir. Sam."

The moment he's out of earshot, Liz queries, "Boyfriend?"

"Paul?" Sam wrinkles her forehead, "No. Just a friend - last weekend in town, and all that."

"Ahh, so you thought you'd have a farewell fling, to celebrate your new assignment."

Her first instinct is to deny it, but there is something more in Liz's eyes than mocking curiosity. "Maybe," she tries to shrug it off.

Liz wraps her lips around a plump strawberry and bites through the chocolate, never taking her eyes away from Sam. Sam licks her own lips in response, and one corner of Liz's mouth turns up as she offers Sam the plate. "Hungry?"

Sam nearly drains her champagne in a gulp, "God, yes," but she doesn't take the offered fruit.

"Well, it looks like your date is returning." She leans forward, as if to buss her cheek, and whispers, "Champagne always goes right through me. I'm sure I'll be in the powder room, ten minutes after the curtain is up." Then she is gone, leaving Sam churning in her wake, as Paul comes up to her elbow and mentions that they should start heading back toward their seats.

The curtain has barely come up on the second act, and she can feel Paul's curious looks, as she squirms in her seat. Finally, she clears her throat and excuses herself, not willing to give herself a chance to change her mind. She is running cold water over her wrists, and unable to meet her own eyes in the mirror over the sink, when she feels, rather than sees Liz entering the room.

They pause silently, and Liz smiles sweetly at the older woman who walks past her to leave. Then they are moving together, their lips meeting, even as they tumble toward one of the large stalls. Sam manages to lock the door of the stall behind her, before turning them around, and rocking Liz against the door. She runs her hands down Liz's arms to her hands and the lifts them up, putting them on the coat hook above Liz's head. "Keep them there," she insists with a rough voice.

Then she's moving her own dress up and out the way, as she slides to her knees on the bathroom floor. She pushes up the bottom of Liz's skirt and pulls her thong to the side to bury her face between Liz's legs. She inhales the sweet, musky scent, and then slides her tongue slowly between the lips. Liz moans and arches into the caress and Sam smiles against her folds.

They hear another woman enter the room, but Sam doesn't pause, instead, she lashes at Liz's clit with her tongue, the licks down to thrust into her opening. Back and forth, over and over, until Liz has to take one hand down from the hook that she is hanging onto like a lifeline to stuff it into her mouth and muffle her moans. When her muscles begin to flutter around Sam's tongue, Sam shoves her other hand into her own panties and quickly brings herself off, following Liz over the edge, until her forehead is resting against Liz's thigh, and they are both panting in the aftermath.

They straighten each other's hair and clothes as well as they can, in the small stall, and wait for the room to empty before going to the sinks to finish cleaning up and fix their make-up. They don't say anything else to each other, but Liz turns back to Sam just before she leaves and gives her a wide, knowingly flirty smile.

Sam is flushed for the rest of the performance, but uses it as an excuse to end the night early and go home - alone.

_We were racing, we were soldiers of fortune_

_We got in trouble but we sure got around_

III. She is definitely the more shocked of the two, the next time they met, but then again, Elizabeth was most likely briefed on her new flagship team, and the "Deep-Space Telemetry" cover story before she stepped on base to assume command. Sam has no such warning, and never expected to see a career diplomat sitting in Hammond's chair. She can't afford to let personal feelings and frustrations get in her way, though. There is too much at stake, and she has to get Elizabeth to see reason, by any means necessary.

She's still a blonde, but it's shorter and lighter than last time, more similar to Sam's own. Kissing her is familiar by now, as is the way she arches into Sam's touch as she goes for the kill by sucking on the place where the line of Elizabeth's collar bones meet the base of her neck. What's unexpected is the way Elizabeth turns the tables and Sam ends up on her back across the wide desk, with Elizabeth's lips wrapped around her clit, and three fingers buried deep inside her cunt, trying to stifle the scream of her climax when Liz twists her fingers just so inside of her and gently scrapes her teeth against the base of Sam's clit.

Afterwards, she rocks against Sam's thigh and bites down on Sam's shoulder, leaving teeth prints through the fabric of the t-shirt that they never got around to removing. She straightens her clothes, and barely looks mussed, while Sam is still wrecked, but she agrees to the mission.

For the next year, Sam has the hardest time looking at Jack, when he is sitting behind the same desk. She often wonders if he could make her come as hard, laid out across the mahogany surface, as Elizabeth had.

_I can still recall the sting of all the tears when he was gone_

_They said he crashed and burned, I know I'll never learn_

IV. By the time Liz returns from her latest recruiting mission to meet them at the bottom of the world, she has reverted to her natural hair color, and is a warm brunette. Daniel has found the gate address for Atlantis, and the mission is a go. Sam guesses there would be a shortage of beauty parlors and personal stylists in the Pegasus galaxy, and God, that is catty, even for her. It might be that part of her blames Liz for what had happened with Jack, and for leaving now, even though she knows it is ridiculous of her.

Because of their relative ranks, and the fact that there are only about a dozen women on the base, they end up bunking together, which means that Sam can't even escape to her quarters at the end of the day to get away. They are stilted with each other, which Sam knows is her fault, even as she scowls at Liz's entrance to their shared quarters at the end of a long day.

"Major."

"Dr. Weir."

Liz sighed. "You could call me Liz, you know, or Elizabeth. I'm not your boss anymore, Sam."

"Actually, you are - at least in charge of this base, which means I'm still reporting to you."

"That's not my fault."

"No, nothing ever is."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" She looks so weary, like she really wants to know how to fix whatever this is between them.

"Nothing." Sam runs her fingers roughly through her hair, making it stand up a bit. "I don't know." She makes a sound of annoyance deep in her throat, and meets Elizabeth's eyes, letting her frustration show through.

Like a match being struck, heat flares between their gazes. Sam moves like a flash grabbing a hold of Liz and fusing their mouths together with an urgency that she hasn't felt since flying the al-kesh back toward Earth, months ago. She gives no mercy, biting at Liz's lower lip as she tumbles them onto the nearest bunk. She soothes it with small laps of her tongue as a distraction as she makes quick work of the fastening to Liz's slacks, and shoves her hand beneath the lace of her bikinis cupping her sex possessively.

With her left hand, she pulls back on Liz's newly brown locks, forcing her to arch back and bare her throat to Sam's teeth.

_She used her body just like a bandage_

_She used my body just like a wound_

V. The Odyssey returns to Atlantis to pick up Daniel and Vala and arrives to a party. A Wraith ship and an Ori ship destroyed on the same day, and the supergate temporarily out of commission, along with clues to Merlin's weapon add up to a very good day. They don't often have much to celebrate around here, and they've partied for a lot less. The sheer happiness is as contagious as the bubbles in the champagne flowing freely around the room. Maybe, that's why they are so reckless as they circle each other around the room, meeting each other's eyes, both knowing where this is going to end up.

It ends up right outside of the conference room, at the far edge of the celebration. They slip in and lock the door behind them, but neither of them have the gene, and Elizabeth knows it won't hold up against someone who does, even as she pushes Sam up against the almost opaque panels from the inside and begins tearing apart her belt as she devours her mouth.

The blood is running high in both of them, their inhibitions flimsy in the wake of the alcohol, and Sam is demanding as much as Elizabeth takes, but Elizabeth is impatient with need and turns Sam around, pressing her face against the glass doors. They are hidden from view, but only so long as no one looks too closely, and once more Elizabeth can't bring herself to care. She strips down the pants of Sam's BDUs, spreading her legs as far as they go in the artificial hobbles, and pulling back on her hips to gain better access.

She tangles one hand in Sam's hair, holding her in place while she slips her other fingers into Sam's wetness, and then back to draw little circles around and around her asshole with the tip of her thumb. She pushes in, just a little bit, working just the first joint of her thumb back and forth, until Sam is whimpering and trying to push back and force her deeper. It's not what she wants though, so she stops to reach around Sam and pull her a little off balance, until her hips are flush against her own. She pushes her fingers into Sam's cunt, twisting and pistoning them in and out. With the other hand she reaches across Sam's chest and grabs her tit, using it as a handhold and her own hips to push Sam back and forth onto her fingers, fucking her in a punishing grip.

Sam's head falls back against her shoulder and Elizabeth takes little bites along her jaw and neck, trying to remember not to leave a mark. She almost forgets, and bites down hard when Sam convulses against her, coming apart in her arms. She laves the reddish area with her tongue as she whispers soothing words in the aftermath.

It isn't over yet, and they both know it. They never stop until they have to, never give up, until it's time to put this part of them aside and go back to their separate duties. It's hours yet until the Odyssey leaves.

_And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are_

A year later, Sam's in charge of the briefings in the conference room, and Liz's office is now her own. Though she refused to occupy the same quarters, even with their proximity to the control room, Sam still feels Liz everywhere - even in her dreams.

_And objects in the rear view mirror may appear closer than they are_  


  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://panthermoon.com/dreaming/viewstory.php?sid=69>  



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